


on the line

by loveleee



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveleee/pseuds/loveleee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You didn’t tell me about you and Elaine.”</p>
<p>Peggy & Stan talk. Tag to episode 7.11, "Time & Life".</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the line

“You didn’t tell me about you and Elaine.”

Stan doesn’t answer right away, and Peggy feels guilty. Maybe it just happened. Maybe it’s too fresh. Maybe he really thought Elaine was _the one_ , had a ring tucked away in his sock drawer and everything.

Peggy had never really got the impression that he was _that_ head-over-heels with her, though. And he’d never brought her into the office.

She’s about to say _nevermind_ when he clears his throat. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Really.”

“I mean. No one got _stabbed_.” She can hear the smile in his voice, and rolls her eyes.

“You’re too funny.”

“Thanks.”

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, and normally she’d let it go. But something needles her on.

“When did it happen?”

“Three weeks ago? I think. Maybe four at this point.”

_A long time to see me every day and never mention it,_ Peggy thinks.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she says, imbuing as much sincerity into the words as she can. “I know how difficult it is to…split your lives up that way.”

“I suppose you do,” he allows.

Peggy bites her lip, tracing over the spiral shape already inked in blue on the cover of her notebook. Outside there are chairs squeaking against the floor, footsteps overlapping, a phone ringing unanswered; the partners must be gathering the rest for their announcement.

“Was she mad?”

“Why would she be mad?” Stan sounds annoyed.

“I don’t know,” Peggy answers carefully. “I guess I just…assumed you were the one to break it off.”

She can hear him shifting around on the other end of the line, and pictures him on his sofa, adjusting the pillow behind his head. Probably with his shoes up on the cushions, which always drove her crazy, but at least now it’s not a sofa they share. He doesn’t share it with anyone, not since Ginsberg.

“I told her about Pima,” he says, “and she got upset, and we both agreed that it wasn’t really working. So yeah, I guess you could say she was mad.”

Peggy purses her lips. Pima. There’s still a hard, tiny knot of – something, not jealousy, just _something_ – that lodges itself in her chest whenever that name comes up.

(She’d thrown out all of the negatives once they were done with the photos from the Cinzano shoot, even though technically they were supposed to be archived. Ed had spent an entire afternoon in a half-panic trying to track them down, until she’d told him to forget it. Nobody ever looked through the archives, except for Don that one time, and he was, well, really fucking high.)

“Seems reasonable,” she says.

Stan’s laugh is brusque. “Sure, it was perfectly _reasonable._ ”

“You don’t seem that upset about it.”

There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry, was that a question?”

Peggy frowns, digging the tip of her pen into the paper. “No.”

“Mm.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m asking you all these questions. I’m just nervous.”

The line crackles a little, like he’s shifting the receiver from one ear to the other. “It’s fine.” He pauses. “I should have told you. You’re…”

He doesn’t finish the thought. “I’m what?” Peggy prompts him. Her heart’s beating faster. Probably because everyone in the office is about to hear the news she’s been hiding for days.

“Experienced in these matters.”

It’s not what he meant to say – she can tell – and she doesn’t like the implication. But she has no idea what else he might have said, so she lets it go. “Don still hasn’t said anything about the Butler storyboards. I bet he hasn’t even looked at them.”

“We’ve got time.”

“It’s not that. It’s like – he feels _guilty_. He knows he should have told me.”

Stan snorts. “Joan wouldn’t even _look_ at me this morning.”

“God, would they just get it over with already?”

His laugh is low and warm. “You’re nervous? I can help with that. Come over here.”

She can’t stop the stupid grin that spreads across her face, and she’s glad he can’t see it. “Shut up.”

“I meant the bourbon.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know what else you’d think I could mean by that.”

“You’re right,” Peggy says, “you’re _always_ right.”


End file.
